


Guest

by Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Art, Canon Compliant, Cover Art, Dirty Talk, Dominant Kylo Ren, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fight or Fuck, Fights, First Time, Missing Scene, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_So_Reylo/pseuds/Ever-so-reylo
Summary: “Your necklace. The yellow one,” he tells her. It doesn’t really follow, and Rey tries to turn to look at him, to read his expression, until he adds: “It was still warm from your skin.”Or:Kylo Ren returns to his Destroyer to find Rey in his quarters: a missing scene from The Rise of Skywalker.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 128
Kudos: 1768





	Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Гостья](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22127512) by [Scofie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scofie/pseuds/Scofie)



> This fic was written for [Selunchen](https://twitter.com/selunchen) as a vicious act of blackmail to get her to draw me some Supreme Leader quarters porn 😎  
> Beta'd by the inimitable [Jen](https://twitter.com/ancientcityjenn) ❤️  
>   
> Yes, TRoS was a bit of a shitshow, but let's never forget that Rey was CANONICALLY in Kylo's quarters 😊

She has no intention of waiting for him, or listening to a single word of what he means to say to her. But she also doesn’t have much of a choice, because Ren must have ordered a lockdown of the Destroyer, and in his quarters all exits are blocked. She can’t leave the way she came, she can’t leave from any of the connecting rooms, and she can’t even leave through any of the air vents, which are surprisingly built to resist a lightsaber beam cutting through them.

Rey refuses to think about the number of assassination attempts Ren must survive on a weekly basis to require this amount of security. She also refuses to notice his narrow, unmade bunk; or the black training robes haphazardly discarded on a chair in the corner, still damp with sweat; or the single spot of color in the pristine, sterile-white bedroom: a red Nightbloomer in a small metal pot, eerily similar to the ones Rey would sometimes pick from the Goazon Badlands on Jakku.

Rey doesn’t want to notice _anything_. It has taken her months, months and a lot of heartache, to stop thinking about Ren as a person—as just an alternate, slightly lost and misguided version of Ben Solo. It won’t do her any good to begin again now.

She is trying to cut through the durasteel of the bulkhead to pierce a passage large enough for her, when she hears the swish of the opening doors. She feels his presence before he even steps in, as is their habit. He is immediately loud and heavy in her head, distorting the Force inside and around her. 

Rey doesn’t turn around. She just closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and listens to his slow steps; feels the weight of her lightsaber in her hand, slides her index finger to the ignition switch, and readies for battle.

_Be with me._

“You are my guest.” Ren’s voice is distorted by the modulator, and thus hard to read. “Again.”

She hates his mask, so much. Always has. She hates that he can use it as a crutch, as a screen to hide himself from her, when all of Rey’s wants and hopes and fears have always been there, for him to pluck effortlessly out of her head—

_Your wish is my command_ , he thinks in her mind. 

A hissing sound, and when Rey finally whirls around to face him the cracked mask is in his hands, and his calm face is there for her to study. 

This might be even worse.

“My command. Very well, then.” She is not scared of him, and she doesn’t know why her voice is shaking. “Tell me where Exegol is.”

The corner of his lips curls. “Really, Rey?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Okay.” He shrugs, turning slightly to set his mask on one of the tables. He looks at the mess of red grains spilled on the floor, unbothered by the sight. “I won’t tell you. But I can take you there, if you would like me to.” He presses his lips together. “You. Alone.”

“Alone?”

“With me, of course.”

_Alone with friends._

Rey clenches her jaw, her knees bending slightly into attack position. “You know I’ll find my way there soon enough.” It’s a bluff. He knows no such thing, and the truth is that neither does she. But. “Give me the wayfinder.”

“Rey.” He doesn’t seem worried about the possibility of her attacking him; his lightsaber is at his hip, untouched. “There are a lot of things I can give you. Things we both know you want.” He holds her gaze for a moment. “The wayfinder is not among them.”

Whether he sees her rushing at him or he always knew she would come because he lives in her head, Rey is not certain. But he blocks her lunge with his blade, pushing back against her quick and merciless, and when the cross guard of his lightsaber almost burns the skin of her wrist to a crisp, he takes a step back and then swings at her. 

There is something unbearable on his face. Something like an amused, enthralled smile. Like he wanted this, wanted to find her in here and raise his weapon against her; have her carve him open with her own. It enrages Rey a million times more, and when their lightsabers meet next she gives no quarter. She snarls, and with both hands around the hilt she throws and pushes against him, cornering him against the bulkhead. 

There is more anger inside her now than in the past year; more now than since they last fought in Snoke’s throne room. It doesn’t occur to her that Ren is not striking back, just covering her attacks—not until he flips them around and pushes their locked sabers at her throat. 

Rey breathes hard, winded. The unstable blade of his lightsaber crackles an inch from her skin, and for a few seconds she wonders if this is it, if this is the end of it all. At the hands of the only person in the galaxy who ever knew her. But Ren kills the beam of his saber first; then he lifts his fingers to switch off Rey’s, too. 

She shows him her teeth. “What are you—” 

She turns between Ren and bulkhead, hoping to duck out of his grip and run away. She is not quick enough, because he cages her there with his arms, one on each side of her ribcage. His chest presses against her back, and Rey—

She has never felt so pinned.

“Are you quite done?” he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear. 

Rey snarls. “Let _go_ of me.”

“If you are going to behave.”

She squirms under him, and it’s—it’s not a stellar idea. Somehow, both her wrists end up pinned to the wall in one of his palms. 

He is even closer, now.

“What does _behaving_ mean, Ben?” She hopes it hurts when she uses his name. She hopes it hurts a lot, especially since _she_ is the one who is starting to cry. “Destroying the galaxy? Killing innocents? Becoming a Sith? Because—”

“Rey.” He speaks the word almost softly, in the hair just behind her ear. Softly, like they weren’t about to kill each other just a second ago. “Rey. Shut up for a moment, will you?”

“Why should I—”

“Because,” he mutters, “it’s nice, this. The quiet, for once.”

Rey closes her eyes, trying to gather her indignation. Trying to muster some righteous rage that Kylo Ren is holding her down and keeping her prisoner in his quarters and waging a war against the galaxy with the help of some undead Sith Lord who— 

He is just impossible to ignore. Ren. He is too large and warm behind her. She doesn’t even know how it happens, that she lets her forehead drop forward and rest against his wrist. That a small whimper escapes her lips. But. Here she is.

“No,” she whispers. But it’s subdued. Petulant. As quiet as he demanded.

“Hush.”

Rey hushes. And it feels…

Good.

“I missed this. It’s been too long,” he murmurs. Maybe to himself. 

She has to bite her tongue not to agree.

“Come with me, Rey. Come with me to Exegol.” 

Oh. _Oh_ , but he can be so earnest. Kylo Ren. Ben Solo.

“No.”

“Please.”

“I can’t.” She shakes her head, as much as she can pinned as she is. “You know I can’t.”

He sighs, deep against the skin of her throat. A burst of happiness travels through the bond: Ren’s quiet, pleased satisfaction at her smell.

“Your necklace. The yellow one,” he tells her. It doesn’t really follow, and Rey tries to turn to look at him, to read his expression, until he adds: “It was still warm from your skin.”

Oh.

_Oh._

“Ben.”

“Isn’t this nice?” His nose is buried in her hair. Nuzzling against it. “A moment of peace.”

“Ben. The necklace.”

“Mmm?”

“What did you do with it?”

A slight smile against the top of her head. “What do you think I did?”

She doesn’t have to guess. She doesn’t need to guess, because he’s showing her, through the bond, and there are… there are images in her head. Disgusting. Debasing, insulting; of the necklace gripped tight in one of Ren’s hands while the other one is—

God. Oh, _God_. 

She should sever the bond now. She should call Luke's lightsaber to her and slice him in two. She should push him out of her mind and definitely—definitely not turn it around in her head, this image of him being aroused for the first time in months; unbearably hard and almost insane, just at the thought of a necklace being so close to her breasts. 

She should not stand here and feel him large against her—growing even larger, even through his armor. Not let his gloved hands leave her wrists and slowly slide down her body as if he is allowed to it. As if he owns it.

“This is crazy,” she whispers. A teardrop lands on the leather of his glove. It’s Rey’s.

She could push him away. She could push him away with a touch of the Force just as easily as he could have killed her less than five minutes ago, but this—this is a rare moment of honesty between them. 

And Rey treasures it. Very much.

“I know.” He is pinning her to the bulkhead again, but his hands—his hands are working now. Busy, fumbling a little, past the waistband of her pants and the fastening of his own robes, warm leather making embarrassing noises against the slick wetness of her cunt as their breathing becomes even louder and even harder. 

It should be a shock that they are doing this. It should be shameful. But the head of his cock slips between her thighs and they both _groan_ , they want it so much. Rey can’t wait—Rey doesn’t have the patience for this, and she tries to bring her shaking fingers to her clit; Ren swats it away, and presses the heel of his hand there.

Right. There.

She gasps. And Ren just—

“Oh, _fuck_. Fuck, Rey.”

A shift of his hips and he nudges the head inside. Too big, definitely too big, but—

Her vision blurs. Her nipples harden.

_Do it_ , she thinks. 

She says it, too, through gritted teeth, her voice too loud in the buzz of the environmental controls. “Do it, please.” She is begging him. She is arching back into him, letting the inches slip inside even though he is thinking so loudly, thinking with a touch of panic that she is _small, she is small, she is too small, she is so deliciously small_ , and then—it all explodes inside her.

There is a pinch of pain, of unused muscles stretched to the seams; but it’s the fullness that has her shutting her eyes, that has the breath rushing out of her lungs. Yes. 

Yes.

This is, finally, something beautiful. Something perfect. It doesn’t even matter, if it’s not Rey’s own pleasure. If it’s Ren’s, fed to her through this bond of theirs. Rey is not convinced that anyone could tease them apart now. She surely couldn’t.

She feels it in bright detail, his delight in her body and her mind. Her tight, slick passage, and the way the intensity magnifies tenfold when his foreskin is drawn back and exposes him to her. The scalding, liquid heat cooling at the base of his spine and deep in her belly. Ready to burst. Friction and heat, ready to explode in a million pieces.

_The Force wants this_. Even his thoughts are scratchy with pleasure. A purring, breathless sound in her head. _Just as much as you and I._

She moans, and something inside seizes and contracts. His hand curls, bruising around her breast, and then they are both done for. There are deep, guttural sounds as he bites her throat, and sticky fluids running down her thighs, and a crazy, rolling pleasure climbing up her spine. Her vision is white. Her heart, for a long moment, full to bursting.

Rey loves it, more than anything. And she simply cannot bear it.

_I hate you_ , she thinks at him. Even if he’ll know it’s not true. Even if he’ll know what she really means.

_I know._

He presses a kiss on her shoulders. Behind her chest, his heart is beating faster than she thought humanly possible. Hers is, too, and she tries to ease both of them down. To stretch it just a little longer, this moment of quiet in the middle of a blood-soaked war.

Ben presses his mouth into the hollow at the base of her neck. 

“I’d like to kiss you, next time,” he murmurs into her flesh. 

He sucks the sweat from her skin, and then licks the taste off his lips, as if not to waste a single drop.

“Never.” She smiles a little, but it’s a sad thought. 

When Rey next sees Kylo Ren they are in the hangar of his Destroyer, surrounded by stormtroopers and First Order officers; the inside of Rey’s thighs are wet with his semen, and she has to forbid herself from taking his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MORE OF SELINA'S ART? YES? WELL, THAT'S UNDERSTANDABLE. [PLEASE CLICK HERE](https://twitter.com/selunchen).
> 
> You can find me [on Twitter! 💕](https://twitter.com/EverSoAli)


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